the　North；　they　would　stand　together；　hand　in　hand；　before　the　great
  White　Throne。　And　God　would　judge　them；　God　would　judge　them！
  Then　Percy　Cuthfert　closed　his　eyes　and　dropped　off　to　sleep。
  TO　THE　MAN　ON　THE　TRAIL。
  'DUMP　IT　IN。'
  'But　I　say；　Kid；　isn't　that　going　it　a　little　too　strong'　Whisky　and
  alcohol's　bad　enough；　but　when　it　comes　to　brandy　and　pepper　sauce
  and…'
  'Dump　it　in。　Who's　making　this　punch；　anyway？'　And　Malemute　Kid
  smiled　benignantly　through　the　clouds　of　steam。　'By　the　time　you've
  been　in　this　country　as　long　as　I　have；　my　son；　and　lived　on　rabbit
  tracks　and　salmon　belly；　you'll　learn　that　Christmas　comes　only　once
  per　annum。　And　a　Christmas　without　punch　is　sinking　a　hole　to
  bedrock　with　nary　a　pay　streak。'
  'Stack　up　on　that　fer　a　high　cyard；'　approved　Big　Jim　Belden；　who
  had　come　down　from　his　claim　on　Mazy　May　to　spend　Christmas；　and
  who；　as　everyone　knew；　had　been　living　the　two　months　past　on　straight
  moose　meat。　'Hain't　fergot　the　hooch　we…uns　made　on　the　Tanana；　hey
  yeh？'
  'Well；　I　guess　yes。　Boys；　it　would　have　done　your　hearts　good　to　see
  that　whole　tribe　fighting　drunk…　and　all　because　of　a　glorious　ferment
  of　sugar　and　sour　dough。　That　was　before　your　time；'　Malemute　Kid　said
  as　he　turned　to　Stanley　Prince；　a　young　mining　expert　who　had　been
  in　two　years。　'No　white　women　in　the　country　then；　and　Mason　wanted　to
  get　married。　Ruth's　father　was　chief　of　the　Tananas；　and　objected；
  like　the　rest　of　the　tribe。　Stiff？　Why；　I　used　my　last　pound　of　sugar；
  finest　work　in　that　line　I　ever　did　in　my　life。　You　should　have　seen
  the　chase；　down　the　river　and　across　the　portage。'
  'But　the　squaw？'　asked　Louis　Savoy；　the　tall　French　Canadian；
  becoming　interested；　for　he　had　heard　of　this　wild　deed　when　at
  Forty　Mile　the　preceding　winter。
  Then　Malemute　Kid；　who　was　a　born　raconteur；　told　the　unvarnished
  tale　of　the　Northland　Lochinvar。　More　than　one　rough　adventurer　of　the
  North　felt　his　heartstrings　draw　closer　and　experienced　vague
  yearnings　for　the　sunnier　pastures　of　the　Southland；　where　life
  promised　something　more　than　a　barren　struggle　with　cold　and　death。
  'We　struck　the　Yukon　just　behind　the　first　ice　run；'　he　concluded；
  'and　the　tribe　only　a　quarter　of　an　hour　behind。　But　that　saved　us；
  for　the　second　run　broke　the　jam　above　and　shut　them　out。　When　they
  finally　got　into　Nuklukyeto；　the　whole　post　was　ready　for　them。　And　as
  to　the　forgathering；　ask　Father　Roubeau　here：　he　performed　the
  ceremony。'
  The　Jesuit　took　the　pipe　from　his　lips　but　could　only　express　his
  gratification　with　patriarchal　smiles；　while　Protestant　and　Catholic
  vigorously　applauded。
  'By　gar！'　ejaculated　Louis　Savoy；　who　seemed　overcome　by　the　romance
  of　it。　'La　petite　squaw：　mon　Mason　brav。　By　gar！'
  Then；　as　the　first　tin　cups　of　punch　went　round；　Bettles　the
  Unquenchable　sprang　to　his　feet　and　struck　up　his　favorite　drinking
  song：
  'There's　Henry　Ward　Beecher
  And　Sunday…school　teachers；
  All　drink　of　the　sassafras　root；
  But　you　bet　all　the　same；
  If　it　had　its　right　name；
  It's　the　juice　of　the　forbidden　fruit。'
  'Oh；　the　juice　of　the　forbidden　fruit；'
  roared　out　the　bacchanalian　chorus；
  'Oh；　the　juice　of　the　forbidden　fruit；
  But　you　bet　all　the　same；
  If　it　had　its　right　name；
  It's　the　juice　of　the　forbidden　fruit。'
  Malemute　Kid's　frightful　concoction　did　its　work；　the　men　of　the
  camps　and　trails　unbent　in　its　genial　glow；　and　jest　and　song　and
  tales　of　past　adventure　went　round　the　board。　Aliens　from　a　dozen
  lands；　they　toasted　each　and　all。　It　was　the　Englishman；　Prince；　who
  pledged　'Uncle　Sam；　the　precocious　infant　of　the　New　World'；　the
  Yankee；　Bettles；　who　drank　to　'The　Queen；　God　bless　her'；　and
  together；　Savoy　and　Meyers；　the　German　trader；　clanged　their　cups　to
  Alsace　and　Lorraine。
  Then　Malemute　Kid　arose；　cup　in　hand；　and　glanced　at　the
  greased…paper　window；　where　the　frost　stood　full　three　inches　thick。
  'A　health　to　the　man　on　trail　this　night；　may　his　grub　hold　out；　may
  his　dogs　keep　their　legs；　may　his　matches　never　miss　fire。'
  Crack！　Crack！　heard　the　familiar　music　of　the　dog　whip；　the
  whining　howl　of　the　Malemutes；　and　the　crunch　of　a　sled　as　it　drew
  up　to　the　cabin。　Conversation　languished　while　they　waited　the　issue。
  'An　old…timer；　cares　for　his　dogs　and　then　himself；'　whispered
  Malemute　Kid　to　Prince　as　they　listened　to　the　snapping　jaws　and　the
  wolfish　snarls　and　yelps　of　pain　which　proclaimed　to　their　practiced
  ears　that　the　stranger　was　beating　back　their　dogs　while　he　fed　his
  own。
  Then　came　the　expected　knock；　sharp　and　confident；　and　the
  stranger　entered。　Dazzled　by　the　light；　he　hesitated　a　moment　at　the
  door；　giving　to　all　a　chance　for　scrutiny。　He　was　a　striking
  personage；　and　a　most　picturesque　one；　in　his　Arctic　dress　of　wool　and
  fur。　Standing　six　foot　two　or　three；　with　proportionate　breadth　of
  shoulders　and　depth　of　chest；　his　smooth…shaven　face　nipped　by　the
  cold　to　a　gleaming　pink；　his　long　lashes　and　eyebrows　white　with
  ice；　and　the　ear　and　neck　flaps　of　his　great　wolfskin　cap　loosely
  raised；　he　seemed；　of　a　verity；　the　Frost　King；　just　stepped　in　out　of
  the　night。　Clasped　outside　his　Mackinaw　jacket；　a　beaded　belt　held　two
  large　Colt's　revolvers　and　a　hunting　knife；　while　he　carried；　in
  addition　to　the　inevitable　dog　whip；　a　smokeless　rifle　of　the
  largest　bore　and　latest　pattern。　As　he　came　forward；　for　all　his
  step　was　firm　and　elastic；　they　could　see　that　fatigue　bore　heavily
  upon　him。
  An　awkward　silence　had　fallen；　but　his　hearty　'What　cheer；　my　lads？'
  put　them　quickly　at　ease；　and　the　next　instant　Malemute　Kid　and　he　had
  gripped　hands。　Though　they　had　never　met；　each　had　heard　of　the　other；
  and　the　recognition　was　mutual。　A　sweeping　introduction　and　a　mug　of
  punch　were　forced　upon　him　before　he　could　explain　his　errand。
  How　long　since　that　basket　sled；　with　three　men　and　eight　dogs；
  passed？'　he　asked。
  'An　even　two　days　ahead。　Are　you　after　them？'
  'Yes；　my　team。　Run　them　off　under　my　very　nose；　the　cusses。　I've
  gained　two　days　on　them　already…　pick　them　up　on　the　next　run。'
  'Reckon　they'll　show　spunk？'　asked　Belden；　in　order　to　keep　up　the
  conversation；　for　Malemute　Kid　already　had　the　coffeepot　on　and　was
  busily　frying　bacon　and　moose　meat。
  The　stranger　significantly　tapped　his　revolvers。
  'When'd　yeh　leave　Dawson？'
  'Twelve　o'clock。'
  'Last　night？'…　as　a　matter　of　course。
  'Today。'
  A　murmur　of　surprise　passed　round　the　circle。　And　well　it　might；　for
  it　was　just　midnight；　and　seventy…five　miles　of　rough　river　trail
  was　not　to　be　sneered　at　for　a　twelve　hours'　run。
  The　talk　soon　became　impersonal；　however；　harking　back　to　the　trails
  of　childhood。　As　the　young　stranger　ate　of　the　rude　fare　Malemute
  Kid　attentively　studied　his　face。　Nor　was　he　long　in　deciding　that
  it　was　fair；　honest；　and　open；　and　that　he　liked　it。　Still　youthful；
  the　lines　had　been　firmly　traced　by　toil　and　hardship。　Though　genial
  in　conversation；　and　mild　when　at　rest；　the　blue　eyes　gave　promise
  of　the　hard　steel…glitter　which　comes　when　called　into　action；
  especially　against　odds。　The　heavy　jaw　and　square…cut　chin
  demonstrated　rugged　pertinacity　and　indomitability。　Nor；　though　the
  attributes　of　the　lion　were　there；　was　there　wanting　the　certain
  softness；　the　hint　of　womanliness；　which　bespoke　the　emotional　nature。
  'So　thet's　how　me　an'　the　ol'　woman　got　spliced；'　said　Belden；
  concluding　the　exciting　tale　of　his　courtship。　'〃Here　we　be；　Dad；〃　sez
  she。　〃An'　may　yeh　be　damned；〃　sez　he　to　her；　an'　then　to　me；　''Jim；
  yeh…yeh　git　outen　them　good　duds　o'　yourn；　I　want　a　right　peart
  slice　o'　thet　forty　acre　plowed　'fore　dinner。〃　An'　then　he　sort　o'
  sniffled　an'　kissed　her。　An'　I　was　thet　happy…　but　he　seen　me　an'
  roars　out；　''Yeh；　Jim！'　An'　yeh　bet　I　dusted　fer　the　barn。'
  'Any　kids　waiting　for　you　back　in　the　States？'　asked　the　stranger。
  'Nope；　Sal　died　'fore　any　come。　Thet's　why　I'm　here。'　Belden
  abstractedly　began　to　light　his　pipe；　which　had　failed　to　go　out；
  and　then　brightened　up　with；　'How　'bout　yerself；　stranger…　married
  man？'
  For　reply；　he　opened　his　watch；　slipped　it　from　the　thong　which
  served　for　a　chain；　and　passed　it　over。　Belden　picked　up　the　slush
  lamp；　surveyed　the　inside　of　the　case　critically；　and；　swearing
  admiringly　to　himself；　handed　it　over　to　Louis　Savoy。　With　numerous
  'By　gars！'　he　finally　surrendered　it　to　Prince；　and　they　noticed
  that　his　hands　trembled　and　his　eyes　took　on　a　peculiar　softness。
  And　so　it　passed　from　horny　hand　to　horny　hand…　the　pasted
  photograph　of　a　woman；　the　clinging　kind　that　such　men　fancy；　with　a
  babe　at　the　breast。　Those　who　had　not　yet　seen　the　wonder　were　keen
  with　curiosity；　those　who　had